


Under His Eye

by HeavyMetalMothman



Series: The Red Series [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous and faceless characters for the sake of the plot, Blood and Violence, Forced HRT, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Prostitution, Graphic Description of Corpses, M/M, Pregnancy, Sexism, Threats of Violence, Trans Andrew Ilnyckyj, Trans Male Character, Trans Ryan Bergara, Transphobia, Two parter but the parts are long af, forced conversion, soooo much sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-21 17:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13745526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeavyMetalMothman/pseuds/HeavyMetalMothman
Summary: Ryan heard a bang, and immediately he fell to the ground. The side of his leg seared with pain in the worst way. He tried to get up and hobbled a few more feet before falling again. The border fence stood in front him just barely out of reach.Eventually the world around him became fuzzy. The pain in his leg began to subside and grow dull. The light from the sky seemed brighter than usual.He barely felt himself being picked up and before he slipped out of consciousness, he prayed for death.Blessed be the fruit, may the Lord open...





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to tell you right now, if you are REALLY uncomfortable with reading about trans characters being heavily oppressed and get dysphoria easily, then this is not the fic for you. 
> 
> This is a Handmaid's Tale au. There are really disturbing elements. Consider yourself warned.

Before the republic rose, Ryan was just an average guy. He worked as an intern for a media company in L.A. He spent his days editing and sitting in meetings that he didn’t contribute to, just earning “experience” so he could move up somewhere else. He pretended not to see the world changing around him, he was naive enough to think it would not affect him.

 

The day his manager called for everyone's attention was the definitive start of a never-ending nightmare Ryan could never wake up from. The managers face was reddened and he was sweating bullets. He even looked like he was about to cry. 

 

“I’m sorry everybody, but can I have your attention? I have been notified female workers must be let go, that we can no longer employ women and it's against the law for you to work.” His voice wavered and was quickly drowned out by the sounds of protests. “Ladies I’m sorry, I don't want this any more than you do.”

 

“Then do something about it!!” Someone yelled. Others yelled in agreement, someone even goes so far as to through a paper wad at the poor sniveling man. 

 

“Please! I don't want any trouble. Just clean out your desks. I don't want any trouble… For any of you.” He wrung his hands together and watched as women around the office proceeded to pull the items from their desks.  Some of them wept and were comforted by the other people in the office. The men watched blankly with a vacant expression.

 

Ryan can feel his chest tighten. The small phantom pain in his chest flares up, but he stays seated and does nothing, hoping he doesn't have to leave. His hopes are shattered when the manager approaches him. 

 

“I’m sorry, Ryan. They told me you have to leave too.” He felt his heart fall. He feels angry too, but he knows his manager.

 

“Who’s ‘they’?” Ryan asks. His manager looks toward the door where two men in black stand at attention. He looks warily at the armed men that are standing with assault rifles and nearly complete riot gear. But he does as he's told. He knows something bad is about to happen.    
  


He stands up, gathers the things he brought with him for the day and glares at his manager, purposely bumping his shoulder as he walks past. He holds his bag to his chest like a life preserver as he walks towards the threatening men. One of them opens the door for him, and though he mumbles a thank you, avoiding eye contact.

 

“Under his eye.” The man returns with a gruff voice. 

 

Ryan turns around “What did you say to me?” He looks at the man who ignores him. Anger burns inside him, he turns on his heel as he storms out. 

 

\---

 

The eviction notice waiting for Ryan on the floor of his apartment is like another slap in the face. The one weeks notice only adds insult to injury. How was he supposed to find a place to live in a  _ week _ ? Did they expect him to roam the streets like a vagrant? He paces around his apartment, Thinking. What was he supposed to do? Where was he going to go?

 

Pulling out his phone, he tries to call his best friend Andrew. Certainly Andrew was experiencing the same thing he was, perhaps they could form a plan together. The phone rings and rings and rings but Andrew doesn’t pick up. The error dial tone startles Ryan, he nearly drops his phone. 

 

“We’re sorry, you are calling from an unregistered number, your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check with your service provider to figure out why you may be experiencing this issue.” 

 

Hot tears welled up in Ryan's eyes. He flings the offending device at the wall and crumples to the floor, sobbing. 

 

\---

 

“Your money was removed and your bank account was closed.” 

 

Ryan stared at the bank teller behind the glass, scandalized. He’d planned to withdraw everything he had left. He’d heard whispers of others leaving for Canada, and now it was time for him to follow suit. He wouldn’t be able to make it out of California without cash. They would be able to track his card.

 

“How could that happen? I had well over five thousand in savings.” He gripped the granite ledge of the counter, his knuckles turned white. “Did the bank just… Take my money from me? I don’t owe anything and I’ve done well at keeping up with my payments.” 

 

“If you’re married, it was probably transferred to your husband’s account. If not, it went to your father or next of male kin.” The teller seemed bored, like Ryan should be familiar with this information. He couldn’t help but notice everybody behind the glass was male. There were no women in sight. It was like extreme sexism had manifested overnight and he was looking at the result. 

 

Ryan sighed and looked around before stepping away from the window. “Okay, thank you.” He didn’t mean it at all but he didn’t want to bring attention to himself by causing a scene. He turned to walk away.

 

“Gender traitor.” 

 

He stopped, registering what he’d just heard. He turned around, looking at the man who’d uttered the phrase. He wasn't even sure what it meant but he knew it was meant to be a slur.

 

“What did you just call me?” Ryan clenched his teeth together. Anger burned inside him once more. He wanted to punch someone. 

 

“You’re a traitor to women. An epicene person who thinks she’s a man. A gender traitor.” The teller stated it like it was fact rather than a matter of phobic opinion. Ryan could hardly process what he’d been told. He opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out, just a small stuttered sound. “Get out of here. Don't come back.” 

 

Ryan suddenly felt very afraid. He took off, running to his car. He drove home as fast as physically possible, his heart racing the whole time. He knew he was in danger. 

 

\----

 

After practically turning his apartment over, he found what he was looking for. He’d prepared for something bad happening in his life, but the worst he thought that would be was someone stalking him. 

 

He pulled $500 in cash, a false passport and false ID from the hiding spot he’d almost forgotten. His state issued ID would get him nowhere with a big ‘f’ under ‘sex’ . He’d haggled and fought with the courts for what felt like years and they still denied the motion to let him change the sex on his ID. Perhaps that should have been the first red flag.

 

He packed light, expecting to have to travel on foot. It was winter, so it was going to be much colder, so he also had to pack warm. He cut apart his credit and debit cards, and smashed his already broken phone with a rock for good measure. And as much as it pained him, he left behind his laptop containing all his projects, his scripts, his thoughts, his ideas. He would not allow himself to fall into the hands of the government. 

 

And then he was on the road. He drove, he drove for what seemed like ages, stopping only for gas. He slept in his car out of the way of the roads and then when he woke up he drove some more. He was stopped once or twice but his ID and passing resemblance were enough to convince the armed men who checked his vehicle. 

 

He felt the worst anxiety while driving, fearing he would never make it out alive. 

 

\---

 

Ryan’s feet and hands were freezing. His lungs burned but he kept running. He was so close.

 

He’d gotten about 2 miles away from the border when he realized just how militarized it had become. At one particular checkpoint, a guard looked at his identification for a particularly long time, before handing it back to him and telling him to proceed. Several minutes later he was cut off by a large black vehicle, forcing him to swerve into the side of the road. 

 

He got out of his vehicle and ran for the woods, not stopping to look behind him. He just ran and ran. He could hear the men yelling in the distance, following his tracks. 

 

Tears streamed down his face as he ran. He eventually tripped over a log but got back up and kept running. He was so fucking close, and there was so much to lose. He could see the fence, he’d have to climb, but barbed wire cuts were the least of his problem. 

 

Ryan heard a bang, and immediately he fell to the ground. The side of his leg seared with pain in the worst way. He tried to get up and hobbled a few more feet before falling again. The fence stood in front him just barely out of reach. 

 

It was few more moments before the men chasing him were able to apprehend him. He tried to fight them off, flailing his arms and kicking the leg that wasn’t bleeding out in the snow. 

 

“Get off of me! Leave me alone!!” He screamed, but they did not listen in the slightest. 

 

He was easily overpowered, two of the men picked him up by his arms and dragged him forward. 

 

“Please, just let me go!” Ryan struggled against their hold. They responded by throwing him on the ground. He tried to crawl away but cried out in pain as one of them purposely stepped on his wounded leg. The pain is too much to bear, he fiound himself trying to grip the frozen earth beneath him. 

 

He felt one of his arms being pulled back and his sleeve being cut off just above his bicep. One of the men still had his foot on his leg while the other held his head down. He couldn’t get up. He couldn't move. His leg felt like a hot iron poker was being thrust into it.  The needle entering his arm felt like nothing compared to everything else.

 

Eventually the world around him became fuzzy. The pain in his leg began to subside and grow dull. The light from the sky seemed brighter than usual. 

 

He barely felt himself being picked up and before he slipped out of consciousness, he prayed for death. 

 

\---

 

Ryan’s head was unbearably pulsing when he woke up. The fluorescent lights above him did him no favors, he squinted, trying to pull himself from his groggy state. He sat up and rubbed his face. 

 

Immediately he realized he was not in his cozy little apartment, but was sitting in a rather uncomfortable mattress in a small room, no more than 8 feet in width and 12 feet in length. The walls were made of cinder block, and there was a single metal door. There was not even a window, much to his dismay. 

 

The last thing he could remember was running in a forest, being chased. He’d failed to get away, and now he’d been captured. The worst part was he had no idea what they were going to do to him. Were they going to kill him? Torture him? He must be important if they hadn’t killed and discarded him already. Perhaps they wanted to make an example of him, a public execution of some sort. To warn others like himself about the consequences of their actions. 

 

He noticed his clothes had been removed and replaced with a dull red jumpsuit, something like what a prison inmate would wear. It was uncomfortable, and offered no warmth at all. His shoes were dull flats. They were a dull pinkish color.

 

Ryan stood up, faltering, and then steadying himself against the wall. His foot protested against the sudden weight, but he was able to steady himself. He inspected his foot, a sterile bandage was wrapped around it but some blood had seeped through and dried. 

 

Surely he must be important, they’d allow the wound to fester and become infected if he weren’t of some value. What Ryan could not fathom was  _ why? _ He was just a video intern at a media company. He’d always felt insignificant in the world. 

 

He was scared. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know how long he’d been there. He had to find a way out. 

 

Carefully he inspected the door. It was solid metal, with no handle on his side of the door. A small window with security glass allowed him to see out into the hall but it was equally as bleak. A lone guard stood in the hall. As soon as Ryan entered his vision he spoke something into his radio and then returned to watching the door. The room must have been soundproofed because Ryan could not hear what he said. The only other thing within his limited field of vision was another door just like his. 

 

Ryan returned to the bed and curled up in the corner, weeping silently. The only other sound being the hum of the lights. He hoped someone would come to retrieve him soon. 

 

He knew he’d only been awake for a few minutes but he felt like he was going insane.

 

\---

 

Ryan was startled awake by two pairs of hands pulling him out of the bed. He shrieked in response and one of the men clamped his mouth shut with his hand. They forced him against the wall where he was handcuffed. A gag was put over his mouth and fastened around the top of his head, forcing his jaws to stay together. 

 

His heart raced, he wanted to know what was going on but he couldn’t even ask, all he could manage was a muffled whine. 

 

Ryan was escorted out into the hall, followed by several flights of stairs. He didn’t see other people, not even other prisoners, just the occasional guard. 

 

The cuffs in his wrist dug into his skin. He felt vulnerable. Exposed from all angles and at the mercy of all the heavily armed men around him. 

 

He was surely going to be executed. 

 

They finally went outside, where an open black van was waiting for him. They forced him in the dark vehicle and closed the door, leaving him alone and frightened in the dark. He heard one of the men yell “Clear!” and the van began to move, Ryan nearly toppled over. There were no seat belts so he was forced to deal with the momentum of the vehicle himself. 

 

Tears fell down Ryan’s eyes. The uncertainty of his destination caused him to panic. His mind took him to horrible places. Would they hang him? Subject him to a firing squad? Maybe more archaically they’d burn him alive or behead him. Maybe they would torture him in front of a crowd and then kill him.

 

There was no way to be certain. 

 

The van eventually slowed down and halted. A moment later the doors open and light spilled into the van, making Ryan squint. A pair of guards were waiting on the other side of the doors. One of them motioned for Ryan to step out of the van and he did so timidly. 

 

Immediately he recognized his surroundings. The courthouse in the center of LA stood before him. He’d noticed it was warm outside when he’d left the prison but he didn’t realize they’d dragged him all the way back to LA.

 

More importantly, what did the courthouse mean for Ryan?  _ Am I going on trial? _ He thought to himself. Was it now a crime to be trans? 

 

He knew in his heart, no matter what the reason for being at the courthouse, he was going to end up miserable. 

 

\---

 

_ This is not at all a fair trial, _ was Ryan’s first thought when he was led into the largest courtroom. 

 

Instead of a single judge, a long, curved table of well dressed men sat talking amongst themselves. The public seating area was also filled with men. Even the court reporter was male. The only seats not filled were the jury. 

 

Ryan’s heart beat in his chest. He was at the mercy of the group of people who hated his existence the most. Perhaps God was indeed punishing him. He couldn’t help but wonder why god would will him to be born only to watch him suffer. 

 

He was lead by a guard to the stand that stood before the panel of old, white men. He was fastened to it so he was unable to run away, as if he’d be able to get far surrounded by men in kevlar holding AK-47s. 

 

He exclaimed in protest when the guard left his gag fastened around his quickly tiring jaw, but the guard paid him no mind, taking his place a few feet behind him next to another armed guard. He quickly looked around but hardly anyone seemed to care about him. 

 

Ryan’s hands were shaking. He wasn’t even allowed to speak for himself, to beg for their mercy. His fate would be decided for him and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. 

 

An older, frail looking man took a seat at the center of the table, somewhat higher than all the other seats and struck a sound block with his gavel. A hush fell over the courtroom. Ryan could hear his blood pumping. 

 

“Gentlemen… today we will determine the fate of… Rebecca Selene Bergara, brought forth by the Sons of Jacob.” He read from a paper, not bothering to even look at Ryan. “She stands accused of gender treachery in violation of Deuteronomy 22:5 and 1 Corinthians 6:19–20, by his word, and attempting to desert her great country, the Republic of Gilead. Prosecutor, do you swear this is the truth?” The man looked to another man at the end of the panel.

 

“I swear it is the truth.” He spoke. He had a low and gravelly voice, and he was quite large. It infuriated Ryan that this man, whom he had never laid eyes on before could just convict him so easily.

 

“Rebecca Selene Bergara, I declare you to be guilty of gender treachery. Your existence is an abomination," the judge says. The verdict is like salt in a wound to Ryan. "True justice would see you sent to an eternity of suffering. But God has seen fit to make you fruitful, and by that we are bound. I sentence you to redemption. You will be made to undergo hormone replacement therapy to undo the sinful alterations you have so vehemently made to your body, a reprehensibly defiant act in the eyes of God. You will be trained as a handmaid and provide children for the barren wives of the Commanders and Angels of your country.” 

 

Ryan felt his heart fall to his stomach.  _ No…. they couldn’t, they can’t. _ It had taken  _ years _ for him to reach the progress he’d made in his transition. And now it was being torn from his very hands, the only thing he really truly owned. First his possessions, his rights, the clothes on his back, and now his very identity was gone too. 

 

Ryan shakes his head profusely and whimpers loudly in objection. He even bangs his cuffs against the stand to produce a loud clattering Noise.

 

“Will one of the Guardians please silence her fussing?” Ryan was immediately pulled away from the stand and held in place by the two Guardians. Ryan struggled against them but the grip on his arm was far too tight. He ceased his struggling and just stood there, thinking about his decided fate.

 

He wished they would just kill him instead. 

 

The judge adjourns the court and Ryan lets himself be lead once more to the back of the black van, a broken man with absolutely no hope left.

 

\---

 

Ryan was not taken to the Rachel and Leah Center immediately. For six months he was forced to stay in the prison while his identity was stripped from him, one injection at a time. He thought he was going to go mad inside his cell. He counted the days by scratching the paint with his fingernails. He was given nothing to entertain himself with, so he spent most of his time awake stretching and exercising so he would not grow stiff. 

 

He found it odd that they kept trimming his hair, but by the time he was delivered to the hands of the Aunts, his dark locks ended just below his shoulders. 

 

The The Rachel and Leah center was a converted high school. Ryan was lead into the classroom and harshly seated by a guard (whom he learned were called Angels), he was still wearing the red inmate uniform. A woman at the front of the room dressed in an ochre color stood at the front of the class reciting the story of Jacob, Rachel, and their handmaid Bilhah and the importance of the roles of the handmaids. She took notice of Ryan and smiled slyly. 

 

“Welcome, Rebecca. Do you know why you’re here?” Ryan was taken aback by her question. He hadn’t spoken to anybody in months, and here he was, presented with an opportunity to speak and he had nothing to say.

 

“I… I don’t know.” He said, meekly. He didn’t like how his voice sounded. He decided immediately to use it as little as possible. 

 

The Aunt smiled. “Then you will soon learn.” She turned to go back to the front of the class to continue lecturing but was interrupted by a woman seated in the back. 

 

“They teach us how to be vagina furnature for the elite pigs and their barren wives.” She seemed quite pleased with her statement, Ryan felt somewhat supportive of her defiance. A small smile made its way to his lips. He immediately dropped the smile when the Aunt approached the outspoken girl and tazed her with a cattle prod. 

 

“Blessed,” the Aunt began, returning to the front of the classroom. “are the meek, for they will inherit the land. Do not forget your beatitudes.”

 

Ryan’s hands began to shake. He quickly realized how thin the ice he treaded on was. 

 

His time at the Red Center could be characterized by constant religious brainwashing, threats of torture, and a form of imprisonment. 

 

His third day at the center, he was lead into a room, strapped into a chair, and his ear was stapled with a cuff. The Aunt was not nice about it either, taunting him. “You are so very precious, we wouldn’t want to lose you.” Ryan could only look up at her with tears in his eyes. He felt his own precious life force seep from the wound and down his ear. 

 

Everything about the Red center made Ryan miserable. His only clothes were a simple, red gown and plain shoes, and a small bonnet that kept his hair out of sight. He felt like a twisted version of a walking pioneer woman. 

 

Over and over he and the rest of the girls practiced the Ceremony they were to take part in to have children for the wives. The idea of a child did not in fact make Ryan uneasy but the reminder of what would have been hurt his heart. Not long ago, he had become pregnant by some miracle. The father of the child became a ghost in Ryan’s life but the thought of raising something so beautiful warmed and melted his heart, even if he had to do it himself. He was absolutely distraught when a car collision caused him to miscarry. He’d wept over the unborn baby for weeks, the ongoing fertility crisis only adding to his guilt. He supposed maybe this was God's punishment; to bear children only for them to be taken away and given to those who were undeserving of such joy in their lives.

 

By the second month of being in the center, he’d memorized and could recite the eight beatitudes. Ryan didn’t consider himself religious, but they brought some comfort. He certainly didn’t feel blessed, not ever. 

 

At night he’d whisper the beatitudes to himself just to try and fall asleep.  _ Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven… _

 

\---

 

The day Ryan was finally sent to live with a Commander was a bittersweet day. He’d grown so bored of the Aunt’s teachings, and now he was finally being sent to put them into practice. Life, as miserable as it was, could certainly be worse.

 

This chance to bear children is the first of three chances he would be given, lest he’s declared an ‘Unwoman’ and is sent to the radioactive colonies to work as a slave until he dies a miserable death. 

  
He was told his new name will be "Ofshane" and that he will live with Commander Madej and his wife Sara. As he sits in the parlor of his new home, he glances around, taking in the room. The Aunt that accompanied him to the home swats his arm and hisses at him, telling him not to stare. Ryan reverts his gaze back to the floor.  _ I’ve already forgotten my place and I haven’t even met these people.  _

 

Eventually a woman walks into the room. She was small, with a soft looking face, and dark curly hair tied back into a tight bun. “Welcome to our home, Ofshane. We’re so glad you are here. I am Sara.” She had a soft voice, and a gentle way about her. It was almost relieving for Ryan. 

 

The Aunt, satisfied that Ryan was under proper watch, announced her leave. He and Sara both watched her leave, returning their attention to each other. Ryan kept his gaze low as he was taught, and only spoke when spoken to. 

 

“I’m sure you know the laws and rules well. I expect you’ll follow them, we wouldn’t want any trouble.” 

 

“Of course, ma’am. I am here to fulfill my duties to the republic, to your family, and to God.” The premeditated phrase tumbled from his mouth with ease. 

 

“I know you won’t disappoint us.” She said, smiling softly. Ryan didn’t want to disappoint her. He’d heard stories from the other handmaids about how cruel some of the wives could be. Sara seemed quite calm and gentle. He didn’t want to do anything to inspire her ire. 

 

They wait in silence for a moment. Sara eventually sighs and looks at the door, “He was supposed to have come in by now. Please wait here.” She gets up and leaves the room, her blue heels sounding in the hall. 

 

Ryan stared at the floor, concentrated on the ornate rug that covered most of the hardwood floor. 

 

Eventually, Sara returned, Commander in tow. Ryan found his face to be somewhat impish but handsome nonetheless. He was wearing a suit, tailored to fit perfectly. He was young for a commander, still quite fit and tall. 

“Hello!” He says cheerfully. “Commander Shane Madej.” He extends his hand to Ryan. Ryan is shocked by the casual-ness of such an elite figure. Madej oversaw and directed any and all Gilead propaganda inside and outside the country. He controlled how people thought and reacted to the republic. Ryan glanced at Sara, who nodded in response. Given the go ahead, Ryan accepts the Commander’s handshake. Lightly gripping his hand. Shane grips his firmly and gives it a good shake before letting go and walking over to his wife’s side. “I’m sure she told you everything... you need to know. The first ceremony is tonight, so we will give you the day to prepare. It’s nice to meet you.” He then retreats from the room. 

 

Sara watches him leave and then turns back to Ryan. “He can be… elusive some days. Come with me, I’ll show you your room so that you can prepare.” 

 

Ryan follows and tries not to think about the ceremony. 

 

\---

  
  


Ryan comes to find that the Commander is mysterious and spends a lot of time in his study, even into the early morning hours. His wife, Sara is also nice, but seems to become irritated with the Commander, especially when he spends so many hours late at night in his study. Neither Ryan nor Sara is allowed in the study, nor the Martha.    
  


Ryan's function in the home was exceedingly simple; he was to help with the daily chores, go shopping for groceries at the very heavily surveilled market, and go to the occasional Salvaging.

  
His days are spent miserable, bored, and depressed. He’s not allowed to write stories, if he's caught they will cut his writing hand off. If he's caught reading they cut off a finger. 

 

Every morning he wants to tear his skin off and just die in a hole rather than put on the Scarlett gown that he's been provided with. Running errands is the only time he feels somewhat relieved, walking down by the river. He's learned to ignore the bodies that line the walls, symbols sprayed onto the bags covering their faces stating their offense.  _ A rapist. A thief. A murderer. A gay man. _

 

The smell isn't so bad when the wind blows the opposite way. 

 

\---

  
The rituals are the worst for Ryan. Once a month, he, the Commander, his wife, and the Martha all gather in the parlor. Ryan kneels on the floor. He, the Martha, and Sara sit the living room. Shane is to knock before he enters and waits for Sara to tell him to enter. This is her night, her domain. The commander then recites the Bible, a section about Jacob, Rachel, and their handmaid Bilhah. After a "blessed be" from the Martha, Ryan, Sara, and the Commander retire to the bedroom.

  
Ryan stares at the ceiling while Shane fucks him. There is nothing pleasurable about it, nor is it painful. Sara refuses to watch, looking away while she and Ryan clasp hands, with Ryan laying in her lap. Ryan just looks for constellations in the ceiling. Shane doesn't take long, but a minute is forever to Ryan and the whole process feels like an eternity. He longs for intimacy and pleasure, but quickly reminds himself it is sinful.

 

After it is done, Shane leaves Sara and Ryan. Sara is supposed to pray and reflect while Ryan is to remain laying down in the hopes of increasing his chances of becoming pregnant.    
Sara sits on the edge of the bed while Ryan remains laying. Ryan is contemplating how bad suicide could possibly be when Sara speaks up. 

 

"You know, there was a time when I loved him. Now I just feel trapped." Ryan glances at her, unsure if he should say anything. He learned to hold his tongue. "I miss when I was free to love. Do you feel like that?" 

  
Ryan waits a moment before responding. "I feel like... I'm being forced to survive in a world I no longer love." 

  
Sara smiles sadly at him and squeezes his hand. She whispers that he can go, and so Ryan gets up and carefully shuts the door. He walks only a few feet when he hears her crying. For once, he's glad he's not the only miserable person in the house. 

 

He makes his way to his humble little room and barely gets the door open when he's startled by Shane's voice. 

 

"You know, we haven't spoken much but I've become rather fond of you already." Shane is sitting in the chair across from Ryan's tiny bed. The room is dark but the moonlight illuminates Shane's face. He stands and makes his way to where Ryan is standing. Ryan averts his eyes. 

 

"Did I do something wrong sir?" He can see Shane's shoes, well shined luxury leather shoes. He flinches when Shane caresses his jaw with his finger. This was the intimacy he’d been craving, but this action from the Commander frightened him.

  
"No... I just wanted to see if you'd... Be interested in joining me in my study. Tomorrow evening."    
A shiver runs down Ryan's spine. His brain is screaming danger. He's not sure if it's worse to accept Shane's offer or turn it down. Either way he feels like he might get hurt. Shane doesn't give him the opportunity to respond. He just chuckles and says "Tomorrow. 9pm." And leaves Ryan to tremble in his boots.    
  


\---

 

The following morning there is a Salvaging. Ryan walks with his walking partner, whom he dislikes greatly. He feels she's a pious, stuck up, bitch and he's almost certain he's heard her whisper "gender traitor" under her breath several times. Nevertheless, he greets her anyway.

 

“Blessed be the fruit.” He says, taking his place next to her and walking down the sidewalk.

 

“May the Lord open.” She responds

 

He makes his way to the gathering spot making meaningless chit chat. They all wander in, single file to a grass opening where they find their place in front of the red cushions waiting for them. 

 

Eventually an Aunt from the Red Center makes her way to the microphone at the center of a stage. 

 

The only thing between them is a Pike with a large d-ring at the end of it, surrounded by dead grass. Ryan waits for the command to sit and remove the white wings that obscure his face from view. 

 

He sits like a trained dog and waits. The Aunt thanks for coming at such short notice, as though they had something better to do than be breeding stock for rich men.    
  


"A terrible tragedy his happened." The Aunt says dramatically. Ryan can hear murmuring but continues to stare ahead at the pike. This was no ordinary occasion. "A man--this man," she says, motioning as two armed Angels drag a man out to the pike. "This man raped a handmaid!" The murmurs around Ryan turn into quiet protests. "This man raped a handmaid, who was pregnant. As a result, the poor girl miscarried." 

 

Quiet protests became loud objections and outrage. 

 

_ I see _ , Ryan thought.  _ A particicution _ . He too begins to feel the rage of the others around them. 

 

The Aunt tells them all to settle down and be quiet. "The Republic of Gilead has decide that this man's punishment will be death." Ryan looks to the side and sees another Angel pushing a barrow of large rocks. He empties it on the ground, just next to the chained up man. 

  
"Alright girls. Each of you may grab a stone. Single file." 

 

Like sheep, they all do as they're told. The tension is high, the handmaids are angry. Why shouldn't they be? This man was a criminal. He hurt someone. He killed an unborn child. Ryan knew this was purposely meant to keep the handmaids in line by letting them express their anger and rage, but it pinning on someone insignificant in comparison to the leaders of Gilead. 

 

Still, Ryan too felt the anger swell inside him. 

 

He picked a stone, somewhat heavy but light enough to throw. The handmaids form a circle around the man, Ryan taking his place among the others. 

 

"Cast your stones." The Aunt commanded. 

 

And so the stones soared. Ryan threw his as hard as he could, hitting the man's shoulder. The other handmaids continued to pummel the man with rocks and beat down on him. Ryan just watched, the screaming and sobbing and rage from the others faded from his ears.   
  


Eventually, the man stilled and stopped moving. The handmaids one by one began to back away and look at the bloodied heap of what was once a man before them. 

 

Ryan returned to his spot and tuned out while the Aunt went on about how the Lord would bless those who suffered and reminded them of their scriptures.

 

All he can think about is how he could have been the man pummeled to death by stones for betraying the Handmaids. 

 

\---

  
That night there is another ceremony. 

 

So long as Ryan remains in the window of ovulation, the ceremonies continue. He’s glad the window is only about five days out of the month.

 

Ryan thinks about the particicution during the ceremony. His mind keeps wandering to the man they stoned. He can’t help but feel like he himself was spared a painful death. But then he wonders if death would have been better than the life he lives now. Not living… no,  _ surviving. _ This is not living. 

 

He's pulled out of his thoughts when Shane touches his leg ever so softly. He can feel Sara's grip on his wrist tighten and he knows she's seen it. He imagines how betrayed she must feel, Ryan too feel scandalized. He wishes he were anywhere else but here.

 

When the ceremony is over Ryan continues to lay on his back. 

 

"Please leave." Sara's voice sounds stern, but fragile, like she's about to cry. "Just go." 

 

Ryan doesn't question her, but gets up and quickly makes his way to his room. He's not sure what the Commander is thinking, touching him like that. He feels violated, more so than during a normal ceremony. 

Ryan draws a bath and scrubs every part of himself until he's red. He doesn't care he's probably ruined his chances of getting pregnant that night, he just wants the feeling of being touched off his skin.    
  


\---

 

The grandfather clock in the entryway chimes 9, and Ryan remembers the Commander’s request. He doesn't feel like talking to him but he'd rather not make him angry. He’s never seen Shane angry, and has absolutely no intention of ever seeing it at all, so he might as well go along with this absurd and highly illegal request.

 

He puts on his socks and quietly makes his way to the study. The large black doors with gold crown molding are intimidating. This was the most forbidden room in the house. Ryan's heart rate sped up as he reaches for the knob. He decides against it however and opts for knocking quietly. 

 

A moment passes before Shane opens the door for him and lets him in quietly. 

 

The study is filled with books, hundreds of books. An ornate desk sits near a window, with three large computer monitors. Nostalgia overcame Ryan. It'd been so long since he'd seen one. He’d missed his work. Creating videos had been his passion. Now, media was banned unless directly approved by the Republic. 

 

A table and two chairs also occupied the room, with a few books piled on top. 

 

"Do you like to read?" Shane said, turning the monitors off on his computer.    
  


"It's against the law for me to read." Ryan replies, plainly.   
  


"That's not what I asked. I said, 'do you like to read?'" Ryan is taken aback by this. He's not sure what kind of game he's playing but he doesn't like it. 

  
"I... I liked to read." Being honest was probably best.    
  


"What do you like to read, Ofsha-- hold that question for a moment. What's your name? And I don't mean your dead name, what do you like to be called?" So the commander knew. Ryan’s not sure why he’s surprised by this, his mind returning to the trial and the prison. He’s puzzled by these questions as well. The commander called him in to...  _ Talk? _

  
"I... I used to be called Ryan." Just saying his own name makes him want to cry.   
  


"Well, Ryan, what do you like to read?" Shane smiled, standing near his desk with his hands in his pockets.   
  


"I... I liked to read literature. And paranormal studies... Narrative and storytelling... Just those mostly.    
  


Shane hums in response and examines one of his shelves before pulling a rather old book. "Here, studies of the paranormal and supernatural."    
  


Ryan hesitated to take the book, looking at the book and then up at the commander. His hands itched to turn the pages and read something other than warnings and street signs. "I'm not going to hurt you Ryan. I just want you to be... Comfortable." The Commander smiles softly at him.

  
Ryan reluctantly takes the book from his hands, opening the book to its cover page. He'd missed the smell, the feel of books. He whispered a ‘thank you’ before closing the book and setting it in his lap.    
  


"Personally, I think the paranormal is… bullshit. But, I cannot rule out the possibility of being wrong. Do you like games Ryan?"

  
Ryan blinked. "What kind of games, sir?"    
  


"You’re welcome to call me Shane in here. Formalities are for appearances, and it's just us."    
  


"Shane..." Ryan tried the name in his mouth. It was a sharp name, befitting of his Commanders appearance and personality. "What kind of games, Shane?" 

  
Shane responded by holding up a board and a small black bag. He laid the board on the table, setting the bag beside it.  _ Scrabble _ . The commander invited him into his office to give him a book and play a board game. While these seemed to be trivial things, they carried enormous penalties if they were caught. It was especially risky because Ryan was unable to tell if someone in the house was an Eye.

  
"Not that I don't appreciate your generosity, but... Why are you doing this for me?" Ryan asked him softly, watching him pull the letter piece stands from the bag and pulling 8 letters from the bag. 

  
"Because, I'm bored. And I like you, Ryan. I find you interesting. I'm surprised they let you live, even if you’re fertile. Most trans folks didn't even make it to the border. They were a priority target from the beginning. The government didn’t want them to spread their sin. They thought of them as poison." He held the bag out to Ryan, who took the letters meekly and set them up on his board. His letters are mostly nonsense, he could barely form a word with so many vowels. 

 

Ryan thought about the other trans people in his community. He thought about Andrew. He’d wanted to go and see him but he felt the sooner he left the country, the better. He couldn’t tell anyone where he was going. It didn’t matter in the end, he was still here. He could have seen Andrew one last time.   
  


"I know it's... None of my business... But why not invite Sara down here?" Shane looks up for a moment before looking back down at the board. 

  
"Sara and I are... Complicated. Once upon a time, before Gilead, we were in love. But that love didn't last a long time and she and I had decided we were going to break things off. But then the war happened and Gilead formed. I was offered a position as the Commander of all propaganda. I used to be a producer, but things changed. Sara is infertile, so knowing she'd be sent to the colonies broke my heart. So I chose her to be my wife. That way she'd be protected from the government in some way. I have invited her in before but we... Just end up fighting. She feels trapped. But it's the only way she's safe."

  
RED was the first word on the board. Ryan looked down at the plain gown he was wearing. Red, indeed.    
  


"You seem very comfortable sharing information with me." Ryan began to build his word. E. A. T. H.    
  


"I trust you won't tell anyone. Besides, it won't be long before Gilead crumbles." Shane said, looking at the board. The news was a shock to Ryan, what could he possibly mean by that?

 

“What are you talking about?” He hoped Shane was not messing with him, he couldn’t take the heartbreak of having hope and then having it yanked out reach again. 

  
"Do you know who the man you stoned to death today was? What did they tell you he did?"   
  


Ryan felt very confused. What did this have to do with anything? "He... He was a rapist. He made a handmaid miscarry. He was a criminal."

  
Shane chuckles at him and Ryan becomes more nervous. What was funny about it at all?   
  


"He wasn't a rapist. He was part of a resistance group called Mayday. Most of the criminals from particicutions are war prisoners and resistance fighters. They tell you what they want you to hear so you channel your anger at them. It keeps the handmaids docile." The horror Ryan felt must have shown on his face. Shane looked at him concerned. “Are you alright Ryan? Was that information too upsetting?”   
  


"I threw a stone at an innocent man..." Tears filled the corner of Ryan’s eyes.    
  


"You didn't know he was innocent. He did his part to fight. He knew what the consequences might be. And it’s not like you had a choice." 

 

"I suppose you're right." Ryan dried his tears with his sleeve. Even if he had known, he still would have had to throw the stone. Visions of his hands whipped and bloodied crossed his mind. Shane was right, he didn't have a choice. 

  
"I like that you have compassion for others. A lot of people don't have that anymore." Shane smiled sympathetically at Ryan. 

  
"Compassion is all I have." Ryan murmured. He stared at the board game. Shane was winning. Ryan was letting him win.    
  


"That’s what they’d like you to think."    
  


They played the rest of the game in silence. Ryan wasn't invested in the game at all.    
When they finished their game, Shane sent him off with a finger to the lips. Ryan returned to his room with the book, stowing it behind the tub.

 

He didn’t sleep at all that night. He laid awake, thinking about the possibility of the collapse of Gilead. 

 

He’d never wanted something so desperately in his life.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last... it's finally finished. There's a saucy scene in this bad boy so... fair warning. I've updated the tags too.

Going to the doctor was a traumatic experience. Ryan would wait at the front window for the black van to roll in front of the house. A Guardian would escort him to the van and he’d ride in the van for thirty minutes, pretending not to look out the red curtains, watching the city go by.

 

The city looked devoid of human activity. Only the occasional man would wander about, but for the most part, it was lifeless. Almost all the colorful shops and restaurants were closed and boarded up.

 

The doctor’s office was as equally bleak. The white waiting room served no function other than to seat one or two other handmaids while they waited for their turn. There were no pictures on the wall except for every single healthy baby born there since that doctor had been established. There were 24 pictures. There was no television to watch. There were no magazines to read. Just waiting, listening to the clock in the office tick.

 

Eventually, a Guardian would escort him to the office and instruct him to remove his undergarments and pull his skirt up to his waist and no further. He was to sit on the examination table, set his feet in the stirrups so his lower half was on the other side of a thick curtain. He did not see the doctor and the doctor did not see him.

 

And then he waited. He waited, totally exposed, for several minutes. His feet got cold, but there wasn’t anything he do could besides wait and hope the doctor would show up soon.

 

The doctor did finally enter the room, unsettlingly jovial. He went through his routine, probing around inside of Ryan, looking for anything that would prevent him from conceiving.

 

“You’re assigned to… Which commander now, miss?” the doctor asked, taking his time looking inside him. He should have been done by now.

 

“Commander Madej.” Ryan stated the fact as plainly as possible. He didn’t want to talk about anything with this man unless it was medical related.

 

“Oh…” The doctor seemed to lose some of his enthusiasm. “That’s a shame… You know, I think he’s sterile.”

 

This caught Ryans attention. Not once since he’d been indoctrinated into this cult-like regime that was completely obsessed with reproduction had he heard such a thing, it was always the handmaids. If a handmaid failed to conceive or carry to term, it was blamed on them. Not once was the possibility that the men could be the issue ever discussed.

 

“You know, I could help you out.” He felt the doctor’s hand pat his leg gently, the curtain parted and the doctor looked at Ryan with what he could only describe as a soft lust.

 

Ryan looked away from the doctor and sighed heavily. “Thank you for the offer but I must decline.”

 

The doctor chuckled. He closed the gap between the curtain. “As you wish. You’re free to go.”

 

It was a disturbing choice of words for Ryan, he was not free at all.

 

\---

 

The secret escapades into his commander’s office became an almost nightly routine. Ryan would venture from his room on the very tips of his feet, Shane would let him into his study. When Ryan finished a book, Shane would lone him a new one. These nights were almost peaceful; were it not for the fear that kept Ryan constantly on edge, he might have enjoyed them more.

 

Shane was a kind man. He allowed Ryan to speak his mind, though Ryan was not 100% truthful to him. He feared saying anything that might make Shane angry. Really, Ryan lets him do what he wants with him.

 

If he wanted to play a game with him, Ryan would play.

 

If he wanted to discuss the subjects and philosophies of the books he lent Ryan, he put forward his least controversial opinion.

 

And when the Commander would touch him, Ryan allowed himself to be touched. He'd allow the commander to caress the curves of his body. It made Shane smile, but it made Ryan's skin crawl.

 

There was one week when Shane left LA to fly into Boston. Ryan and Sara were left behind to keep each other company. Ryan tried to stay out of her sight as much as possible, but there would be times when Sara called for his assistance in some task.

 

One afternoon she called him into the parlor where she was knitting a blanket.

 

“Ofshane, could you please hold the yarn while I knit.” Ryan nodded wordlessly and took the yarn from the basket, kneeling on the floor as he was taught by the Aunts. “You can sit in a chair, if you'd like.” Sara motioned at the large chair next to her.

 

“Thank you.” Ryan whispered, quietly taking a seat in the large chair. It was certainly more comfortable than the wooden chair in his room.

 

“Is there…. Any likelihood that you might be pregnant?” Sara said as she looked at the blanket coming together before her eyes.

 

“I don't know ma'am. It's too soon to tell.” Ryan kept his eyes averted. He remembered the day he'd come to the house, he'd promised Sara he wouldn't disappoint her. He was unable to get pregnant in the year he'd been there, he only had a year left to make it happen.

 

“Please, if you something happens that makes you think, even for second that you might be pregnant, tell me immediately.” Sara looked at him. There was a kind of desperation in her eyes that Ryan had only caught glimmers of before.

 

“Of course. I want to be useful to you.”

 

Sara smiled, and tells him he can go.

 

\---

 

The night after Shane returned from his trip, Ryan returned to his office. Shane seemed irritated, pacing back and forth in his office talking out loud about things. Ryan watches him nervously, wondering if he should have just stayed in his room.

 

He'd apparently flown into Boston to help sell a trade deal with Mexico, and according to him it had gone too well.

 

“They're going to trade red tags for resources… It's disgusting. I did my job too well, this shouldn't have happened. This ruins everything.” He stopped and looked at Ryan, who's staring at the table. “Am I boring you, _Ofshane_?”

 

Ryan looks up at him. He's irritated with him, perhaps he thought he'd spaced out. “Of course not, sir.”

 

Shane shakes his head and motions for the door. “You can go.” He sits at his desk with a stern look on his face.

 

Ryan nods silently and gets up, keeping his gaze averted as he walks to the door. _No,_ he thought. _He asked me to be in here._

 

Ryan turns and tries his best to looks innocent and sad. “I’m sorry, really. I’d like to stay, please.” Shane’s eyes look glazed over, he looked dominant and assertive.

 

“And what would you do if I let you stay?” Ryan walks over to where his Commander is sitting. Shane stands up, towering over Ryan.

 

Ryan looks up into his dazzling hazel eyes, darkened with emotion and lust. “Can I kiss you, _Commander_?”

Shane led Ryan’s hands to either side of his face. His beard felt coarse and rough, Ryan liked it. He brought their lips together, the kiss was chaste but quickly became a lust filled action on both their parts. Ryan opened his mouth and Shane met his tongue with his own. Shane backed him against the bookcase, slowly feeling up his waist and chest with his hands. His fingers dug into Ryan’s skin as he moved up his chest and to the back of his neck.

 

Shane breaks off the kiss, looking Ryan up and down.

 

“I don’t like that dress on you.” He wiped Ryan’s reddened lips with his thumb. “Go to bed now.”

 

Ryan mumbled a “yes sir” and quickly left Shanes study.

 

That night he brushed his teeth until his gums bled.

 

\---

 

“I got you something.” Ryan was startled the presence of his Commander, he’d been sitting in his room, looking at the stars. It was very late in the night. He turned to see Shane holding a teal-blue dress. “Bought it while I was in Boston… I thought it’d suit you.”

 

Ryan stands and cautiously takes the dress from Shane’s hands. The dress is covered in blue crystals delicately sewn into the dresses thin fabric. It’s not what he wants to wear but he does have to admit, it is a massive improvement over the simple, red cotton dress he is forced to wear everyday. He could bear with a little sparkle. But when was he supposed to wear it? Just holding the dress was a punishment waiting to happen.

 

“What am I supposed to do with it?” Ryan Looked up at Shane, confused.

 

“Draw a bath. We’re going on a date.” Ryan is still confused but does as he’s told. He doesn’t question the Commander, even though his smirk has him concerned.

 

Shane watches Ryan run the water in his tub. The warm water reaches about 6 inches and Shane commands him to shut it off. He tells Ryan to sit on the ledge of the tub. Ryan looks at him, and cautiously pulls up his skirt, holding it behind him so he can sit on the lip of the tub. He doesn’t understand what Shane is doing.

 

Shane reaches for a small bag and produces a razor and a small bottle of shaving cream. Shane was serious tonight. Ryan was not allowed to have razors. Vanity was not a luxury he was allowed, besides his hair. And even so, he had to keep it up in a small cap that covered his hair and ears. “Put one of your feet up against the other edge."

 

Ryan extended his leg as he was told. Shane took great care pouring water over his leg, softening the skin, and then carefully lathered the soap. He made slow and sure gestures, shaving Ryan’s leg with care. The look on Shane’s face as he gently set the finished leg down and instructed Ryan to lift the other told him this was a very sensual act. He had never seen Shane’s face so at peace. He could swear for a moment, he saw a glimmer of love.

 

It made Ryan’s heart hurt.

 

When Shane was finished, he instructed Ryan to rinse his legs and dry off. While Ryan is doing so he notices Shane pulling other things from the bag. He holds them out to Ryan. _Cosmetics._

 

“Have you ever used these before?” Ryan nodded and took the makeup, glancing at Shane for a moment. He was very serious. Ryan sat down and did his best to apply the eyeshadow with nothing but the mirror in the compact. He had no brush so he put it on, using his finger tips. It didn’t look bad, but he could have done better if he’d had a brush. He then applied the lipstick, a deep red Sangria color, mattified. He had to admit, it was a complimenting color, contrasting with his olive skin. Shane had chosen well.

 

Shane quietly handed him the dress and turned around. He leaned against the bathroom doorway with his back to Ryan. Shane was offering him privacy to change, a significant thing considering how the man like to touch him however and whenever he pleased. Ryan was unsure where the night was going or what Shane had planned.

 

He pulled his Red gown over his head and dawned the sparkling gown. He tapped Shane on the shoulder and turned, asking him to zip it up. It was an interesting sensation, Ryan shivered at his touch.

 

He felt the cap being lifted from his head, his long hair fell out of the loose bun that he could barely manage. Shane Brushed his hair back and ran a comb through it to smooth it out. He was very gentle, being careful not pull Ryan’s hair too hard. He fastened it into a tight, low bun at the base of Ryan’s neck. Ryan wondered where Shane had learned to do this. Though more importantly, he wondered why he was doing this.

 

Shane turned Ryan around and looked at him.

 

“Beautiful.”

 

Ryan had never considered himself a beautiful person. Handsome, sometimes, but never beautiful. He felt invalidated by the word itself, though he had known plenty of beautiful men in his life.

 

Shane paused and made an “ah” noise. “I almost forgot.” He retrieved a pair of of teal-blue heels and a teal hooded cape. “Tonight, you are Mrs. Madej.” Was this some kind of strange fantasy Shane was playing out? Was he using Ryan in place of Sara?

 

“I still don’t know what’s going on.” Ryan looked up at him, unsure.

 

“I’d hate to spoil the surprise…” Shane said, pulling the hood far over Ryan’s head. “There. Absolutely stunning... Let’s go.”

 

He turned, and Ryan followed, trying as best he could to stay quiet in the halls.

 

\---

 

Either the driver had no idea or he didn’t care that Ryan was in the back of the car with Shane. He sat next to Shane, not daring to breathe a word out loud. He was almost certain they’d get caught.

 

“Checkpoint coming up, sir.” The driver said. Shane nodded in acknowledgement, turning to look at Ryan.

 

“Women are not allowed past the wall. You’re going to have to get down on the floor.”

 

Ryan’s anxiety went through the roof, but he got down and made himself as small as possible on the floor of the vehicle. His face was right next to Shane’s shoes, he could smell the leather.

 

The vehicle rolled to a stop and Ryan clenched his eyes shut and held his breath.

 

“Where are you headed to?” a Guardian spoke to the driver.

 

“Some late business in the city.” The Guardian looked through the driver’s side window, Shane nodded and put his hand up.

 

“Alright, go ahead.” The Guardian waved his hand, and the vehicle proceeded forward. As soon as the window was rolled up, Ryan let out the he breath was holding, gasping for fresh air. He crawled back into his seat as Shane chuckled at him.

 

“Nothing to worry about.” Ryan tried not to glare at him, it’s not like Shane would be shredded like Ryan if they were caught together. How could he possibly understand? He lived in a world where men like him prospered no matter what.

 

\---

 

The ‘surprise’, as Shane had put it, turned out to be a secret brothel in the heart of LA. The hotel-turned-bordello offered a variety outlawed things. Besides the obvious sex, people could be seen drinking and smoking. Women walked around in lingerie and catty outfits, flirting with men nearly three times their age.

 

They passed a room where a topless woman danced around pole under neon lights. Some prostitutes inhaled lines of cocaine off black tables while the men they entertained exhaled vapor from hookah pipes.

 

Ryan got the sense that a all of the women working here didn’t have a choice, or if they did, it was either this, or the colonies.

 

Shane held Ryan’s hand and lead him to a bar where men sat gambling and drinking with the women at tables. They laughed and giggled and smiled so painfully wide. It was all a farce.

 

“Two long islands, please.” Shane slips the barkeep money, turning back to to Ryan.

 

“Is that a good idea?” Ryan looks at him with concern.

 

“I think one won’t hurt. It’s a special night.” 

 

The drinks are set in front of them. Ryan takes a cautious sip and looks around the bar, taking everything in. It’s wildly over the top.

 

His heart nearly stops when his eyes land on a familiar gaze.

 

_Andrew._

 

He’s across the room, seated at a table where he seems to be entertaining another commander. Andrew is looking at him but smiling seductively and talking to the man in front of him.

 

Ryan does his best not to look shocked. He turns to Shane, who raises his eyebrows. “Is something wrong?” Ryan puts on the best flirtatious smile he can manage.

 

“Oh I… was just wondering if I could use the restroom for a moment. I’ll be back before you know it.” Shane nods in approval and shoos him away, taking a large gulp of his drink. Ryan whispers a thank you as he gets up. He glances at Andrew once more, who’s still watching him. Ryan turns and walks to the bathroom, hoping Andrew takes the hint and follows him.

 

Ryan waits for a moment, pacing back and forth, and when he turns around he nearly runs right into Andrew. He pulls his friend into a tight embrace, rocking back and forth. Tears form at the corner of his eyes and lets out a small sob.

 

“I thought you were dead, I thought they killed you. I was so afraid they got you like they got me, and that you were dead.” Ryan babbles into his neck. Andrew pulls away and holds Ryan’s face in his hands.

 

“What have they done to you, Ryan? You look…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He knows what they’ve done. The squareness in Ryan’s face had faded. The bit of facial hair he could grow was gone. He kissed the top of his friend’s forehead and pulls him into another embrace. “I’m so happy you’re alive. Everything happened so quickly.”

 

“Hey! Ilnyckyj! Stop fucking around and get back to your client.” A woman had entered the bathroom and was standing by the sinks.

 

Andrew looked at her and pursed his lips and then looked back at Ryan. “Listen to me. Come and find me later, if you can.” He squeezed Ryan’s hand and ran off, leaving Ryan alone and sad.

 

His heart was full of relief that Andrew was alive, but he was not well. He was being forced to work as a prostitute at the brothel. He’d heard whispers about a secret brothel, if the women were attractive enough, instead of sending them to the colonies they’d give them the option of being a Jezebel.

 

Andrew was different. He was like Ryan. He was a fetish for a lot of the men. It made Ryan sick to his stomach knowing that this what his friend was stuck here in this terrible place.

 

Andrew deserved better than to be a rich man’s plaything for the night.

 

\---

 

Shane led Ryan by the hand to the elevators, black key card in hand. There was uncomfortable silence in the elevator, Ryan didn’t want to say anything. He knew where Shane was taking him and he wasn’t sure he wanted to go.

 

The elevator stopped and Shane lead him down the Hall to the door at the very end. He could hear noises of pleasure coming from other rooms. The sounds the women made sounded forced.

 

Once they were in the room, it was quiet. Nothing but the sound of their breathing. Shane removed his dress jacket and loosened his tie, pulling it over his head, tossing it on the chair in the corner.

 

“Do you want this, Ryan?” Shane looked at him with such fierce determination.

 

“...Yes.” _Just go along with it, it’s not any different than the ceremonies._ He looked at the bed and then back at Shane.

 

“No, Ryan. _Do. You. Want this_? Just pretend for a while that I am not your master. Pretend we don’t live in Gilead. Pretend you aren’t a child bearing slave. Forget about all of it for a little while. Pretend I’m a stranger. I’ll ask again, do you want this?” Shane’s face is absolutely the most serious Ryan has ever seen it.

Shane is asking for explicit consent.

 

Ryan unzips his dress and kicks the heels of his feet. He pulls his hair out of the tight little bun and lets it fall onto his shoulder.

 

“I want this.”

 

That’s all it takes for Shane. He pushes Ryan onto the bed and crawls in between his legs. Ryan pulls him into a kiss and runs his fingers through Shane’s hair. He’s missed this, this burning desire. He doesn’t give a damn about anything for the moment. He just wants to be selfish.

 

Shane pulls off his clothing as fast as he can. Ryan grabs ahold of his cock and strokes it, ripping a groan out of Shane. This infinitely better than the ceremony. This was everything Gilead hated. Desire and lust, passion and ecstasy, Ryan wants to feel it all. He wants Shane's body rolling up against his in the dirtiest, most erotic manner possible.

 

Shane grips Ryan’s leg and lines up with Ryan’s cunt, sliding into the tight heat it provides. Ryan moans loudly. Shane had never felt this good before, he sets a slow pace at first, rocking into Ryan and kissing on every inch of body available to him. He runs his hand over the scars left from a mastectomy long ago.

 

“Shane…” Shane looked up at Ryan’s heated gaze. “Faster...” He commanded. Shane did not refuse, speeding up is pace. Ryan groaned, running his hands through his hair.

 

The friction is amazing, the two can hardly stand it. Ryan whimpers as Shane increases his speed once again. He moans, fucking into Ryan with an almost primal urge.

 

Ryan plays with his clit, mumbling “fuck, fuck, fuck” to himself. Shane grabs his wrist, pinning the other one down as well and thrusts as hard and as fast as he’s physically capable.

 

“God, dont stop!” Ryan was practically leaning back against Shane when he thrust into him. The bed creaked, protesting their copulating.

 

“Ever since you walked into our house... with that stupid fucking red dress… I’ve wanted to screw you until you begged me to stop. What you do to me Ryan… You drive me insane.” Shane growled into Ryan’s ear, Ryan cried out.

 

“I’m so fucking close, Shane. I’m so close…” Ryan whimpers. Shane is fucking him raw and it’s the best goddamn feeling in the world.

 

“Fucking do it,” Shane sneers. “Come on my cock.”

 

Ryan practically screams as he tips over that glorious edge. His thighs tremble and his back arches magnificently. His cunt feels so used, he feels so dirty and wrong and he loves it. He basks in the feeling, drunk on the high it provides.

 

Shane spills inside him groaning through his orgasm. He gently releases Ryan’s wrists and pulls out of Ryan, leaving him to feel empty.

 

They don’t say anything after, but Shane pulls him into his arms, Ryan lets himself be held. Shane falls asleep, but Ryan stays awake, knowing they’ll have to fall back into their normal routine when they return home.

 

He can’t stand the thought of it.

  


\---

  


Ryan crept down into the lobby and past the bar. It was a lot quieter at the early hours of the morning. Ryan didn’t mind. He snuck around until he came across the ballroom, filled with numerous cots, neat piles of clothes and cosmetics sitting next to them.

 

Ryan spots Andrew sitting on a cot with a cigarette. He runs over to him, heart pounding violently.

 

“Andrew!” He hisses, not wanting to wake the others that were sleeping. Andrew looks up and reaches out with his freehand, grasping Ryan’s as it comes into reach. He pulled him into an embrace, holding him as close as he possibly could.

 

“Some life, huh?” He takes another drag before putting out his cigarette. “I feel so bad for not coming to get you, Steven insisted we leave immediately. Adam was hiding with us at the time, they were already looking for him.”

 

“What happened to Steven and Adam?” Ryan looked at his friend. Andrew looked unbelievably burdened by his thoughts. There were dark circles under his eyes. He looked thinner too. He looked at Ryan.

 

“I don’t know. We got ambushed somewhere near Olympia. I was shot in the stomach and went down.” Tears filled his eyes and he drew a shaky breath. “Steven was screaming for me to get up. I kept telling them run. Adam had to pull him away. I heard gunshots a few minutes later.” He put his face in his hands and wept quietly. Ryan put his arm around Andrews shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry.” The sentence did him no justice but it was all he could offer in their position. Tears filled his eyes as well, the thought of Steven and Adam strung up on a wall somewhere was too much to handle.

 

Andrew looked up and sniffed. His eyes were red. “It’s better to think they’re dead. The sons of bitches that shot me brought me back to L.A.. They threw me in a cell for a while, then told me I could either go to the colonies or become a Jezebel. And now I’m here.” He looked at Ryan. “How’d you get here?”

 

Ryan raised his eyebrows and sighed. “I was able to drive to Sumas, but they figured out I was trying to leave and cut off my car, so I ran through the forest. They shot me in the leg just before I could reach the fence. I woke up a later in a… prison I guess.” He rubs his eyes, thinking about the whole experience. “They brought me to a court where I wasn’t allowed to speak. They said I was an abomination. I’m fertile though, so instead of shredding me they made me a handmaid. My commander brought me here tonight.”

 

Andrew puts his arm around Ryan and they just sit there, together. Ryan rests his head on his friends shoulder, trying to memorize the feeling.

 

“I wish we could run away.”

 

Ryan looks at Andrew, he’s staring off into space, mind weighted down with his thoughts.

 

“You _could_ escape, Andrew.” Ryan lowers his voice so it’s barely above a whisper. “We’re past the wall that keeps the handmaids and wives stuck in the city. You could run away. I’ve heard handmaids talking about safe houses along the coast. If you can make it to Seattle, there's U.S. Navy forces. They’ve been smuggling people to Vancouver by boat.”

 

Andrew sighed and stared at the floor. “Nobody gets out of Gilead alive, Ryan. Nobody.”

 

Something starts to burn inside Ryan. This isn’t like Andrew. He’s stubborn, he’s a fighter. Perhaps it’s the thought that Andrew has a chance that Ryan doesn’t that irritates him. He knows he’s being a fool. He’d rather stay here to be used as a whore than escape.

 

“Steven and Adam might be alive and waiting for you.”

 

“Steven is dead! Okay? No one gets out.” Andrew snaps. This isn’t like him at all. Even given the circumstances, Ryan thought he’d be fighting tooth and nail for freedom.

 

Ryan looks at the window. The first hint of dawn is starting to show. He needs to return, or he’d be in trouble.

 

“I have to go Andrew. I wish I could help. But you have to choose to take a leap or stay stuck here forever. I’ll try to come back.” He stands, squeezing Andrews shoulder.

 

“Don’t come back. It’s more trouble than it’s worth, and you need to survive.”

 

Ryan nods, and turns to leave.

 

“Ryan!” He stops, and turns to look at Andrew. A hint of that familiar troublesome grin he’d known for so long plays on Andrews lips. “Don’t let the bastards grind you down.”

 

Ryan nodded, and then made his way back to the room.

 

\---

 

A week after Shane had taken Ryan to Jezebel’s, Ryan found himself bending over the toilet, heaving the contents of his stomach into the bowl. At first he thought he might be sick, in which case, he’d need to see a doctor immediately, so he could bounce right back to normal and bear Gilead’s children.

 

He realized with horror that he was possibly pregnant. It seemed like it was too soon, he thought his last period had only been a few weeks prior. It wasn’t like he had a calendar to keep track, so it was possible enough time had passed. He couldn’t remember.

 

He washed his mouth out and made his way upstairs to find Sara in a nursery, staring longingly out the window. She turned and saw Ryan, who looked like he’d seen a ghost.

 

“Yes, Ofshane? Are you alright?” She looked frightened by Ryan’s sudden appearance.

 

“I think… I think I’m pregnant.” Sara’s fear melted, but something still remained. Her face looked bittersweet, she did not seem to be excited by this news as Ryan thought she would be. She walks up and clasps his hand, squeezing it.

 

“Tha-That’s good… I’m glad.” Her voice faltered, and Ryan knew she was not actually glad. He’d seen the desperation in her eye’s the last time they’d spoken about the possibility of him being pregnant. Where was this desperation now? “Run along now. I’ll make an appointment for you soon, okay?”

 

Ryan nods and retreats from the room. He clasps his hands over his stomach, tears begin to fall from his eyes. For a fleeting moment, he hopes it’s a contingency, not wishing to bring a child into this world just yet. As it stood, he was running out of time anyway.

 

He laid down on his bed thinking back to the first time he’d been pregnant.

 

Birth rates had plummeted by an enormous amount, the rampant infertility could be blamed on contamination from radioactive areas and disease. It crippled the nation, and Ryan could see how Gilead was able to take control.

 

It was a miracle that Ryan had even become pregnant. The father left upon hearing the news, Ryan couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t want a child. He was hurt, but determined to carry and raise the child, whether the father wanted to be there or not.

 

And everything was fine for a while, but it was not meant to last. He had been riding in the car with Andrew, who’d volunteered to go with him to his appointments so Ryan wouldn’t be alone. He was barely 10 weeks along.

 

A car running a red light struck the side of his vehicle. Their car flipped and left them both battered and bruised. While Andrew managed to stay conscious, Ryan was knocked out.

 

Ryan woke up in the hospital a few hours later. Andrew was sitting next to him, looking worse for wear. He had his hands clasped over his mouth. Ryan reached out to him. Andrew was startled but took Ryan’s outstretched hand. “It’s not good.” He breathed. Ryan could see the tears Andrew was trying to hide.

 

Ryan tuned out as the doctor told him what happened. The sound of ringing white noise filled his ears. _It’s gone. It’s gone. It’s gone._ His chest felt empty. A tear rolled down his cheek as he was trying to process everything.

 

They had to walk past a nursery on their way to check out of the hospital. Every single bassinet was was empty. The reality of just how bad the crisis was fell on Ryan’s shoulders. The emotions hit him all at once, he began to weep intensely. Andrew wrapped his arm around Ryan and sat him down on the nearest chair, trying to console him, but Ryan was inconsolable.

 

How could this happen to him? He’d _wanted_ this child so badly. His heart hurt in the worst way, he felt like he was going to fall into nothingness.

 

A similar pain returned to his chest now, as he lay on his bed thinking about the life that was possibly growing inside him.

 

\---

 

Shane stared at the wall in front of him. Ryan was laying near him in the bed they shared. Shane had insisted they return to Jezebel’s as soon as possible. Ryan agreed, mostly so he could see Andrew again. Shane looked stressed, like something was bothering him greatly.

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

Shane sighed. “There was something I was supposed to give you.”

 

“Oh?” Ryan was perplexed. Shane had already given him so many things, most entirely contraband. “What is it?”

 

Shane stood and walked to his coat jacket, retrieving a small note from the inside pocket. “I was supposed to give this to you as soon as I returned from Boston.” He hands the note to Ryan, who takes it cautiously.

 

The writing is familiar, his breath stops as he reads the note.

 

_Ryan, me and Adam are safe. We’re trying our hardest to get you out. If you know where Andrew is, tell him I love him, and that we’ll be together again soon. All of us will be together soon._

_\- Steven_

 

“Where did you get this?” His breath shakes, he looks at Shane with such fury. He had this the whole time? “Why didn’t you give this to me sooner?” His voice sounds raw, and low.

 

“Boston is a network city. It’s quite near the border, so many messages, supplies, and even people pass through Boston. Ryan, I’m not what you think I am. I cannot tell you the details. I didn’t give you the note sooner because I didn’t know if I could trust you.”

 

Ryan is astounded. “I have literally risked my life... I went into your study, I played your games, I let you touch me like your wife wasn’t one floor above us, wondering why the only companion she has in life can’t stand being near her… I slept with you in an illegal _fucking_ whorehouse… and when you’re presented with the opportunity to treat me with some sort of common respect and decency, you couldn’t trust me?” His hands are shaking. He feels betrayed, but he’s not shocked.

 

“Please, try to understand that I walk a very fine line. My life is very complicated and one mistake could ruin it.”

 

This only made Ryan angrier. “It’s just so fucking hard to be a white man with a fortune and a breeding slave, isn’t it?”

 

This struck one of Shanes nerves, his features hardened. “I’m going to take a shower. And when I’m done, we are going to leave.”

 

Ryan waits until he’s heard the water turn on before he runs out the room to find Andrew.

 

\---

 

“They’re alive.” Andrew is startled by Ryan. He pulls him down so they’re crouching by his cot, and hisses for him to be quiet.

 

“Why did you come back?! It’s too dangerous, you need to leave soon. There’s an Eye in your house.”

 

Ryan’s blood runs cold. “W-what?” He stutters, hardly believing the words Andrew has spoken.

 

“There’s an Eye in your house, I don’t know who they are. You need to get out of here, _now._ ” Andrew looks around to see if anybody is watching but the others pay him no mind.

 

“I came down here to tell you you need to run as soon as possible. They’re alive Andrew... Steven and Adam are alive.” Andrew looks hurt as though Ryan had reopened a wound.

 

“Don't say that… I heard gunfire. They died.” Ryan looks around. Shane would be finished showering soon. He was running out of time.

 

“I don’t have time to explain. Take this,” Ryan shoves the note into his hand and closes it. “Take this, get your fucking _shit_ together, and _get out of here_.”

 

Andrew opens his mouth to protest but Ryan stands up before he can say anything.

 

“Get your shit together, Andrew.”

 

\---

 

The car ride home is full of an awful silence. Ryan know’s Shane is angry, but he doesn’t say anything.

 

Ryan’s mind is still racing from what Andrew told him earlier.

 

_There’s an Eye in your house._

 

This was the worst case scenario he’d feared from the beginning. He’d been such a fool to trust Shane. Between Shane and the Driver, he’s not sure who it is, but both have incredibly incriminating evidence against him.

 

His thoughts drifted back to what Shane had told him earlier that night.

 

_“I am not what you think I am.”_

 

“Shane?” Ryan spoke, staring directly forward. The partition between the driver and them was up, offering some privacy.

 

“Yes?” His voice sounded stern, cold, and commanding.

 

“Are you an Eye?” The question slipped out his mouth before he could stop himself. He couldn’t handle the suspense.

 

“Yes.”

 

\---

 

Ryan spent the next several days staying out of the way as much as possible. He did not go near Shane or Sara if he could help it. He did all of his duties as he was supposed to and then stayed in his room the rest of the time.

 

He waited and waited for guardians to show up and force him into a black van, but no such thing happened.

 

Shane had not spoken to him since the night in the car. Ryan felt like he was walking on eggshells around him. The silence in the house was deafeningly loud.

 

One night Ryan returned to his room after helping the Martha clean to find Shane sitting in the chair. He was staring out the window, his head seemed to be elsewhere.

 

Ryan was quite startled and walked into his room. He didn’t dare look at him, turning away from the commander.  

 

“What do you want?” Ryan hissed. He crossed his arms as if to protect his chest from any sort of threat.

 

“Sara tells me you’re pregnant.” There is no emotion in Shane’s voice. “Is it true?”

 

This upsets Ryan greatly for some reason. He does his best to keep from crying, gasping out to keep from sobbing. “I don’t know, I haven’t been to a doctor to confirm it.” His voice is raw, but he’s trying so hard.

 

“Well, this complicates things.” Shane pauses for a moment and then stands up.

 

“Things have already been complicated. They’re as complicated as they can be.” He can hear Shane walking towards him, his hands begin to shake. He’s begging, pleading for mercy from whatever god had forsaken him. He flinches and keens as Shane’s hands find their way to his waist.

 

“No, my dear. They are about to become much, much more complicated.” One of Shane’s hands slip up over Ryan’s shoulder and past his neck. He feels Shane’s other hand leave his waist and hears him digging into his coat pocket for something. Ryan chokes out a sob. He whispers his beatitudes to himself, hoping Shane will drop whatever he’s doing and leave him alone. “I am so sorry… for everything, and for this.”

 

A needle finds its way into Ryan’s neck, he freezes, a single tear running down his cheek.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Ryan feels Shane withdraw the needle. He tossed it away into a corner of the room, the plastic clattering against the floor.

 

“Because I care about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. I hope, in time you can come to forgive me.”

 

Shane stands with Ryan as he cowers, and when Ryan finally gives into the strong pull of the sedative, Shane catches him before he can fall, picks him up, and carries him out of the room.

 

\---

 

Andrew stares at himself in the mirror, and resents what he sees. The dark circles under his eyes, although obscured by concealer, told the truth, he was so tired.

 

He’s tired laying awake at night and wondering if he’d live to see Gilead crumble. He’s tired of being a harlot for the most foul of people and doing the most depraved things, things he never thought imaginable, so he can live to see another day only to do it all over again. He’s tired of hoping and praying that the next person paying to use him is halfway decent.

 

He glances at the note on the counter, wrinkled from the moment Ryan shoved it into his unsteady hand.

 

_Steven is alive._

 

He thought back to when he was still on the fence about running away, even after Ryan had given him the note, until a commander had requested him for a private audience. He walked into the room, expecting someone around the age of 60, waiting for him in all his naked glory, but was greeted by a younger, much more handsome commander.

 

Ryan’s commander.

 

His heartbeat quickened looking at the man sitting before him. He had to be the Eye, there's no other reason he'd be here alone. He shut the door behind him, but continued to keep up his act.

 

“What can I do for you this evening, _Commander_?”

 

“So, you’re the famous Andrew… that’s interesting. Here I’ve been searching for this ‘Andrew Ilnyckyj… and you were right under my nose this whole time.”

“Did a friend tell you about me? Did they enjoy me enough to… share with you?” This commander did not seem even in the slightest bit turned on. In fact, he seemed burdened by something. “You look tense, I can help you loosen up, if that’s what you’d like.”

 

“I’d like you to drop the prostitute act, I’m not here to have sex with you.” Shane fixated on the wall in front of him as he spoke. “A source of mine told me you spoke with Ryan, I assume he gave you the message?”

 

What did this man want? Was he here to take him away to the colonies? Andrew hadn’t gotten out of line since he’d arrived, ever.

 

“What do you want from me? Are you here to take me away? I know you’re an Eye.”

 

The man chuckled, crossing his legs and straightening his back.

 

“Yes, it’s true I am an Eye. I also oversee all the propaganda Gilead distributes to other countries, trying to make this hell look like a fertile utopian society, where all who live here flourish. Tell me Andrew, have you heard of Mayday?”

 

Andrew became defensive, taking a step backwards. “I’m not involved, if that’s what you’re asking. I do my job and I mind my business.”

 

“Hmm. I’m sorry to hear that. Steven described you to be more stubborn than this.”

 

“What do you know about Steven? Did you get him, too??” Andrew’s heart raced. He didn’t know who the hell this man thought he was.

 

“Andrew, I’m not here to send you to the colonies. I’m here to get you out of Gilead.”

 

“Don’t you fuck around with me. As soon as I say anything you’re gonna turn around and arrest me. Nobody gets out of Gilead.” Andrew growled at Shane.

 

“You still think I’m out to get you? Alright, I’ll tell you what I really am. I’m similar to what you might call a spy. I’ve been feeding Gilead’s most private information to what’s left of the U.S. Army and Navy. Gilead is about to collapse. The currency value is next to nothing, the country is unable to export or import anything of value. The situation is so bad the government made a deal with the Mexican embassy to trade handmaids for supplies. Corruption in the chain of command will cause the hierarchy to crumble, and from there, it will be chaos. People are going to die, mostly innocent people.” Shane stood up and approached Andrew. He towered over him, he was very much intimidating. “I’m giving you a chance to escape before you’re caught in a slaughter. Things have become… very complicated. The window of opportunity is closing. If you want to see Ryan or Steven ever again, you will listen very carefully to what I’m about to tell you.”

 

Andrew gulped and nodded.

 

“I will be waiting five blocks down the road 3 days from now at exactly 2 am. I will be in a black sedan with two others, Ryan included. A client has already been booked for you. You’re going to kill him, you’re going to steal his clothes, and you’re going to walk out of this brothel like you were never even a resident.”

 

“How… how do I kill him?” The commander was asking him to commit murder… but then again was it that great a sin if the man he murdered was vile beyond comparison?

 

“Strangle him. Find a sharp object and stab him. Smother him. It doesn’t matter, just get rid of him. And then get out.” Shane pulls a watch out of his pocket and holds it out to Andrew, who takes it cautiously. He stepped around him to open the door and stopped for a moment, with his hand on the handle. “I am counting on you to keep this information to yourself. If it leaks, I will not be waiting for you.”

 

It scared the shit out of him, thinking about what he had to do. But he was running out of time.

 

His client called out to him, asking why he was taking so long.

 

“Coming, love.” He slides a shank up his sleeve and smirks at himself in the mirror. “Just making sure I’m looking my best for you.”

 

Unbuttoning several buttons on his shirt, he struts back into the bedroom. He could almost taste his freedom.

 

\---

 

Ryan opened his eyes and quickly realized he was not in his room. The night sky glittered before him in unparalleled beauty, the stars were absolutely brilliant.

 

He sat up, trying not to topple over or throw up as his head began to spin. He was still wearing his red dress and shoes, but a jacket had been placed over him. Sitting in front of him was Andrew, staring at a fire. It looked like they were in the middle of the desert, far, far away from civilization.

 

Andrew noticed Ryan trying to get up and quickly rushed over. “No, no, no... don’t try to stand up yet.” He sat down next to his friend and helped him steady himself.

 

“Where am I?” Ryan rasped. His head pounded like someone was striking it with a hammer. “What’s going on?”

 

“We’re near Patterson, California.” Shane spoke from across the fire. He was studying a map. Sara was sitting next to him pointing at something on the map. “Glad to see you’re awake, now put on some real clothes.”

 

Ryan rubs his eyes and tries to shake the fog from his head. The last thing he could remember was being in his room, talking to Shane while he was touching his sides. His blood runs cold when he realized what had transpired “You drugged me!” Ryan shrieked and pointed at Shane.

 

“I had to. You were a liability. I wasn’t able to control how you behaved, and you wouldn’t have gone with me willingly after I told you I was an Eye.”

 

“He’s not gonna hurt us Ryan. He got me out of the brothel.” Andrew hugs Ryan, but he just stares at Shane with an incredulous look.

 

Shane folds the map back up and stood. “We need to switch cars. They’re going to be looking for a black sedan.” He pulls a pile of clothing out of the car and drops it next to Ryan, along with a pair of boots. “We’re going north to Seattle. It’s largely abandoned, but the Navy takes refugees to safety via boat.”

 

Andrew helps him stand up but Ryan tells him he’s fine, and walks behind the car to take off his dress. The night air feels chilly on his skin, but it’s liberating in a way. The black pants are a bit loose, but the belt Shane provided helps. The black shirt feels comfortably loose on his torso, he feels like he can move around freely again. The boots fit him perfectly, they were comfortable but sturdy. He realized he was dressed similar to the Angels that patrolled the city. He decided it was much better than the color red. He pulled the cap off his head and combed his hair out with his fingers.

 

“What should I do with this?” Ryan he picked up the dress and the cap, holding them some distance away from himself as though it were a snake about to strike.

 

“Burn it.”

 

Ryan dropped the dress into the fire without hesitation. Watching something burn had never been so satisfying to him. The flames ate through the dress with little resistance, and soon the the dress was nothing but smoldering ash. _Good goddamn riddance._

 

“We need to do something about that staple in your ear.” Shane popped the trunk of the car and pulled out a small pair of pliers. Ryan reached up and felt the cuff embedded in the cartilage. It had taken forever to heal and it still hurt when he tried to sleep on that side. “I can pull the tracker out of it, but the staple is going to have to stay put until we make it up north.”

 

Shane motioned for Ryan to have a seat. Ryan looked to Andrew for a moment, who also motioned for him to sit, he did so reluctantly. He could tell Shane was being as gentle as possible but it still hurt. He hissed at the pressure on his ear, but Shane eventually pulled out a small processor, no bigger than a lemon seed. He threw it into the fire as well.

 

“What are we going to do if they find us?” Andrew asked. Shane walked back to the car and held up a handgun.

 

“Then we fight. I don’t intend to ever return, and I’m sure the rest of you don’t either. They’re not going to arrest us this time. They’ll kill us and string us up on a wall somewhere.” He held the weapon out to Andrew. He pulled four bags out of the car and distributed them, Ryan looked inside and found a gun, spare ammunition, a second shirt, and nothing else. “We need to move, now.”

 

Shane kicked dirt onto the fire until it was nothing but sizzling logs and some smoke.

 

Andrew and Ryan looked at each other but got into the car with Sara and Shane nonetheless.

 

\---

 

Most of the drive north was uneventful. The freeway lay before them, almost completely abandoned and unmaintained. They passed one semi carrying livestock, but no one else. Most of the towns were empty.

 

They switched cars periodically, always a black SUV of some sort. Shane was very much paranoid about them being discovered, rightfully so.

 

There was no radio, just the sound of the tires on the road.

 

Andrew fell asleep for a good portion of the ride, leaving Ryan alone in the backseat with the rest of his thoughts. He found it difficult to trust Shane. He wasn’t sure how to feel, but for the most part, he still felt angry. He tried his best to put his feelings aside. Shane had risked his life to help them get out of the country, but he couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t done it sooner.

 

He thought back to the night Shane had first invited him into the study, how he said Gilead would crumble soon. Something had to have changed, something made Shane change his course of action. Or maybe he was planning it the whole time, who was to say?

 

Occasionally, Ryan would catch Shane glancing at him in the rearview mirror, but he’d look away and pretend like Ryan didn’t just catch him. It irked him in the worst way.

 

Andrew began to mutter in his sleep. Ryan paid him no mind at first, but he started to talk in his sleep, crying out.

 

“I don’t want to… I don’t want to…” Ryan leaned over and touched his shoulder trying to rouse him from his sleep. “Stop it… stop it please… stop, just stop!”

 

“Andrew!” Ryan tried to shake him awake, but Andrew did not respond. Sara turned to see what was going on.

 

“Stop! Get off of me! Don’t touch me! Stop it!!” There were tears running down his cheek, he seemed to curl in on himself.

 

“What’s going on, Ryan?” Sara watched with wide eyes while Andrew continued to protest in his sleep.

 

“I don’t know, I don’t know! He won’t wake up… He’s having a night terror or something!” Sara told Shane to pull off the road. He kept glancing nervously in the rearview.

 

Suddenly Andrew gasped and jolted forward, his eyes opened. He just breathed for a moment, looking lost, and then buried his face in his hands.

 

“That place is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.” He whimpered, muffled by his hands. Ryan rubbed his back in support while he lamented.

 

And then Ryan finally understood why he’d refused to run away and was so willing to roll over for the Sons of Jacob. Andrew was a strong person, but he’d met his breaking point a long time ago.

 

\---

 

Shane insisted they abandon the car to continue forward on foot when they reached the edge of Seattle.

 

Not much was left of it. A fight broke out between Gilead’s forces and the exiled United States Army to try and reclaim a small amount of the vast land the had been usurped from them. The forces were crushed and Gilead wiped out most of the city for good measure.

 

Now, nature had begun taking over the building frames and rubble that remained. It was an excellent place for immigrants to escape.

 

They hiked over the terrain for hours it felt like. The air was chilly and the ground had a light snow on it. The scenery might have been beautiful if they weren’t walking on the remains of a city.

 

“We need to find a place to stop and take cover for the night.” Shane said. The sky had started to turn pink as the sun began to set. “Angels still look for people along roads that are still somewhat drivable. They’ll stop anybody trying to leave the country from the harbor.”

 

They eventually settled on an apartment above what was probably once a  convenience store. Both the apartment and store had long since been looted. The broken shop window crunched under their feet as they entered and began to explore, looking for anything useful.

 

Ryan found his way into behind the counter, nothing but some scattered pens, weathered paper, and a pair of scissors. He picked up the scissors, an idea worming its way into his head. He went searching for a mirror, finding one in the bathroom upstairs.

 

He peeled off his coat and jacket, the cold air permeated his skin. The scissors were still sharp, he grabbed a strand of his long dark hair and relished the sound of the echoing snip reverberating off the tile walls.

 

“Would you like me to do that for you?”

 

Ryan nearly dropped the scissors when he heard Sara’s voice speak up behind him.

 

“I uh…” Ryan wasn’t sure what to say, he’d figured he’d just cut his hair as short as physically possible, he hadn’t really thought beyond that.

 

“I can style it. Nothing fancy, just an even cut so you don’t look like you trimmed it at all sorts of odd angles.”

 

Ryan thought for a moment, and then handed her the scissors. “That would be nice. I’m tired of my hair. It reminds me everyday of what I’m not allowed to be.”

 

Sara smiled softly and motioned for him to sit at the edge of the tub, standing behind him. He sat quietly while she worked. An unanswered question sat in his head, begging to be asked. Ryan eventually broke his silence, curiosity getting the better of him.

 

“Why don’t you hate me? I did… terrible things behind your back with your husband, I know you know. I figured you’d probably hate every fiber of my being.” He stares at the dirt collected at the bottom of the tub.

 

“Shane is not my husband. I know in the eyes of Gilead’s law they see us as husband and wife, but we do not. Shane was only trying to protect me from being shredded.”

 

“You looked so hurt… the time he touched me in front of you. I thought you loved him still.”

 

“I was upset because he touched you in front of me during a ceremony. I know he didn’t do it to intentionally hurt me, in fact I don’t think he was even thinking when he did it.” She sighed, combing through Ryan’s hair to smooth it with her fingers. “I hated every minute of the… ceremonies. They reminded me of how alone I felt. They also reminded me if I could have children, then I would have been in your place. Everything about Gilead is designed keep us in our place, whether we’re a handmaid, a martha, or a wife.”

 

“I feel like I’ll never be able to go back to who I used to be. I’ve seen too many things and I can never be the same again. I don’t know what I’m going to do when we get out of here. I don’t know where I’m going to go. I don’t know if I can heal from all the suffering I’ve lived through. It seems like so much.” Ryan looked at the strands of hair in the tub. He thought he’d be more relieved to see them go. “The only thing I know for certain is that I never want to see Shane again.”

 

“Nobody would be the same after everything you’ve been through. I know it seems like Shane is a questionable person. And maybe he did do questionable things to you, I don’t know but I don’t dispute you. Maybe one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive him. Maybe not. I know he cares a great deal about you and is very attached. It almost cost him his life. But you are who you are and you feel what you feel. And no one--not Gilead, not me, and not Shane--can take that from you.”

 

This complicates Ryan’s feelings even more. He knows Sara meant well, and she did well. A lot of what she said resonated with him, and he felt like some of the burden on his shoulders had been lifted. But Shane lied to him and manipulated him. It was something Ryan couldn’t move past, at least for the time being.

 

“There…” Sara brushes all the leftover hair off his shoulders and helps him stand up. He looks at himself in the mirror and hardly recognises what he sees. It’s a like a shadow of how he used to look. His hair is still long in terms of men’s haircuts, but what Sara has done is just short enough that he could comb it back if necessary, but for the most part it looks rugged, and just slightly shaggy. It frames his face better. “I couldn’t get it shorter than that without it looking… weird. Is it okay?”

 

Tears are forming in his eyes, he turns and hugs Sara. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

 

“Of course.” She smiles, it’s not quite as sad this time.

 

They walk out of the bathroom and joined Andrew and Shane, who’d started a fire in the fireplace.

 

“That’s a hell of a lot better.” Andrew looks at Ryan like he’d just put on a dress suit. “Fuck long hair.”

 

“It looks nice…” Shane is quiet, poking the small fire with a stick. “Sara did a nice job.”

 

“Thank you.” Sara sat down across from Shane. “Did you find anything… canned or preserved?”

 

Ryan realizes how hungry he is, but the thought makes him feel nauseous. He feels like his stomach is fighting him. He knows why.

 

“No… we might be able to scavenge something while we’re hiking tomorrow. Everything has either been damaged or taken by people before us. I could also try shooting something but if there’s any Angels near, they’re going to hear it. Even if we don’t find anything, we won't starve. It’ll just be a miserable and exhausting hike to the harbor.”

 

The wave of nausea is too much for Ryan. “I’m sorry, I’ll be right back…” He turns and runs down the stairs of the apartment before the others can protest. He doesn’t want them seeing or hearing him.

 

He heaves in the corner, trying to avoid his shoes. If there was any doubt before, there wasn’t now. His period was far too late for it to be a coincidence, and this sudden spell of sickness only seemed to confirm it. He held his stomach and began to cry. They were angry, frustrated tears falling from his eyes. He pounded the concrete wall with his fist in exasperation.

 

The child inside him was the result of over a year of ritualized rape and enslavement. He didn’t want to bring such a creation in this world. It scared him to think about it. Raising this child alone was one thing, but when the questions came about who they were, and who their father was, and where they came from, Ryan knew he would not be able to lie. He was afraid he’d ruin the child forever, or maybe it was ruined from the moment it was conceived.

 

The thought of the child looking like Shane was just another stone on his chest. Raising the child would be so very painful and emotionally draining.

 

“You shouldn’t be down here alone.” Shane’s voice startled him. “It’s dangerous.”

 

“This is your fault…” Ryan growled, he pushed off against the wall and turned around.

 

“Really? Is that how you feel?” Shane looks hurt, but hardened, like he expected this from Ryan.

 

“There is a child growing inside me that I did not ask for, but I was forced to conceive anyway. I feel angry and miserable, but there’s not a damn thing I can do about the government, but you’re then next best thing to blame, because it is partly your fault. You didn’t have to go through with the ceremonies. Me and Sara could have been spared the humiliation and degradation for a short while, but you were the one in charge. We _had_ to listen to you.”

 

Shane didn’t say anything for a moment, thinking instead. “Come with me.” He beckoned Ryan, looking out into the streets for any signs of danger.

 

“Where are we going? You can’t even respond to what I’ve just told you?” Ryan was aggravated by Shane’s lack of empathy.

 

“We’re going across the street… I promise it’s relevant.” He stepped out into the open and when he finally deemed it safe, he motioned for Ryan to follow. Ryan sighed and followed him, jogging across the street to a church. It was small, but traditional, with a steeple and a bell.

 

“Why are we going into a church?” Ryan asked, trying to keep up with Shane’s rapid pace.

 

“Because there’s something I think you need to see to understand what I’m going to tell you.” They walked in the main entrance, and Ryan immediately noticed a foul smell, but couldn’t place what it was until they entered the nave.

 

Ryan immediately stumbled backwards and covered his mouth. Shane kept him from running out the door again at the sight in front of them.

 

Corpses hung from the rafters of the church, halfway decomposed. Some had fallen to the ground and had been scavenged by animals and carnivorous birds. There were at least more than twenty people hanging. The smell was horrendous, the stench of rot and decay was almost more than Ryan could deal with. He almost threw up again and tried to look away, but his eyes betrayed him and he still looked.

 

“This is why I had to perform those ceremonies. You were not the only one under constant scrutiny, questions on why I was never able to sire a child would have caught up to me. You were the second handmaid we had, and after the third, they would have looked into the house. We all would have been found out and strung up just like these people. And while you’re right about the child, there was no way around it. And if it wasn’t you, it would have been another maid. This was the only other option.”

 

“I want to leave, Shane. I want to leave, and I never want to see this place or this country again.” Shane let go of him and Ryan ran out the nave as fast he could. Shane followed, looking around for anything or anybody, but it was unlikely at this hour.

 

The sun had nearly finished setting, and darkness was about to fall. Ryan hurried back inside the building and gasped, leaning against one of the isle shelves.

 

“Why are you such a bastard? You could have warned me about what I was going to see. You’re a fucking asshole and I’ll be absolutely elated if I never have to see you again.”

 

“I hope you don’t mean that. I really hope you don’t.”

 

“Oh, I do mean it, I mean it with every fiber of my being. I pray when this is over, we never cross paths again. But I pray for a lot of things, and God doesn’t seem to fucking listen.”

 

Shane walked closer to Ryan to try and comfort him but Ryan shoved him away. He took several deep breaths before turning back to Shane after calming down.

 

“I appreciate everything you’ve done to get me out of this godforsaken country. But when we reach Vancouver I’m going far away. I don’t want you to follow.”

 

He turned on his heel, and went back upstairs to rejoin Sara and Andrew before they had to put out the fire for the night.

 

\---

 

Shane was right about the hike across Seattle. It was long and miserable. They were all hungry, and cold. They hiked in silence, trying to stay out of the open while navigating the crumbled buildings and plants that sprung up in the wake of human abandonment. It sobered Ryan to see a city reduced to rubble.

 

Ryan hadn’t expected to hike for so long, but it was nearly sunset by the time they reached the harbor. One of the bridges connecting Harbor Island had collapsed into the water, but the other one still stood, it was their bridge to freedom.

 

Ryan could finally feel some sort of relief. He was so close, so close to being free.

 

They wandered among the freight containers to the other end of the island. It looked like many of them had been gone through, people had even camped out in them. It was quiet, the only sound being the ocean and the wind.

 

They were nearly to the end of the island when someone yelled for them to stop.

 

“Don’t move!” Ryan could see the silhouette of a man in the shadow of a freight container. He was holding a firearm, but Ryan could not see any other details. “Stay right where you are.”

 

“We’re here to get to Victoria and then cross into Vancouver.” Shane held out his hand as if to say ‘get behind me’.

 

“And how do I know you’re not an Angel or an Eye?” The man kept his weapon drawn, but aimed it the ground, rather than pointing it at them.

 

“Because I’m traveling with a handmaid, a Jezebel, and a housewife. We just want to cross.”

 

“They’ve used live bait before. Who are you?”

 

Shane sighed. He looked behind him and Sara mouthed the words ‘it’ll be alright’. “My name is Commander Shane Madej. I oversee all the propaganda that leaves this country. I’m an Eye for the Republic of Gilead and a main informant for Mayday.” Ryan and Andrew looked at each other. This was news to Ryan. He new Shane was a double crosser, but he had no idea how far Shane’s roots really went.

 

The man seemed consider this for a moment and then emerged from the shadows. He looked Shane up and down and eyed the rest of the group. “Which one is the handmaid?” Shane turned and looked at Ryan, and the man approached him. “Let me see your right ear.”

 

Ryan looked at Shane who nodded in approval. The man examined the cuff on his ear, being careful not to hurt him.

 

“Alright, follow me.” He stopped and looked at Shane. “You. Watch yourself… _Commander_.” He spared him a dirty look before beckoning for the rest of them to follow. “A boat should be here within the hour. There’s only three others waiting, but they’ve been here for days. People stopped volunteering after Angels started sweeping the area. They figured out we were leaving from ports instead of heading directly for the border on foot.”

 

The three other’s, Ryan learned, were another handmaid, a nun who’d refused to give up her chastity vows, and a gay man. All three had come from the city of Portland.

 

They waited for a while, the sun started to set on the ruins of the city. It was beautiful in an eerie way.

 

Ryan felt like a huge weight had been shifted off his shoulders when he saw the boat. It was a small trawler, with enough room for all of them. It had been a long time since he felt impatient, but he wanted to leave, he wanted to step off this land and be free.

 

The others boarded first but when it came time for Ryan, Shane, Sara, and Andrew to board, the boats captain refused at first.

 

“I came here to retrieve three people, not seven.” He spoke to the man who’d held them up earlier. “I can’t take them. It’s too much trouble.”

 

Ryan was starting to panic, afraid he’d have to wait several more days before he was able to finally leave. He almost started to cry when Shane spoke up.

 

“I’ll pay you.”

 

The captain looked at him like he was a lunatic. “Aren’t you a bunch of refugees? You don’t have money.”

 

“I can pay you $1,200 in canadian currency when, and only when, we reach Victoria.” Shane pulled a rolled stack of cash out of his bag and held it up.

 

“Fifteen hundred.” Ryan couldn’t believe this man was haggling with Shane over human lives.

 

“Fourteen hundred. No more.” Shane stared at the captain. He had a rather serious look on his face, like he was ready punch anybody who crossed his path.

 

“Fine.” The captain grunted and turned back to his boat. Shane motioned for Ryan to climb on and waited until everybody else was on board before boarding himself.

 

A bullet ripped through the air in their direction, piercing the side of the cabin. Two more followed, one striking the nun in the head.

 

“God… _Damn it!_ ” Shane pulled his gun out and started firing at the Angels who’d manage to catch them in the middle of their escape. He emptied his clip, only managing to hit one of them. Ryan called out to him and tossed him his own gun so he could keep firing. Andrew ran around the other side to fire at the Angels, killing one of them. Sara tried to pull the nun behind the cabin where they were unable to shoot. Shane realized what she was doing and tried to stop her. “Sara wait!”

 

She jolted as a bullet struck her in the stomach, ripping right through her. Ryan watched with wide eyes as she looked down.

 

“Shane…” She barely whispered his name.

 

“ _Sara!!_ ” Shane screamed as she collapsed on the deck. He managed to pull her out of way the of the bullets without getting shot.

 

Ryan took up the gun Shane was using, but they were too far away to be effective. The boat was moving across the water, and eventually the bullets stopped coming.

 

“Sara? Sara don’t worry, you’re gonna be okay… it’s going to be alright.” Ryan turned to see Shane holding his hand against her wound. There were tears falling down his cheeks, Sara reached up with a shaky hand and wiped them away.

 

“You’re a good man, Shane... Take care of them like you took care of me, okay?” She caressed his cheek with her hand. “I love you.” She smiles as warmly as she can.

 

Shane kisses her forehead. “I love you too.” His voice is shaky. He can’t stop what’s happening and it’s tearing him in two.

 

“I… I know you do.” She whispers, her last breath leaving her lips. Shane can see the life fade from her eyes.

 

“Sara…” Shane mourns over her, tears falling freely from his eyes. He holds her close, trying to bargain with whatever god is listening, begging them to let Sara see another day.

 

Ryan and Andrew watch sorrowfully. Tears stream down Ryan’s eyes as he watches Shane rock Sara's body back and forth.

 

When they arrive in Victoria four hours later, Ryan and Andrew essentially had to pry him off of Sara’s cold and lifeless body. They had to continue on to Vancouver.

 

Ryan watched Shane sit in despair as they departed the island. He got up to sat next to him and said nothing.

 

\---

 

It was a tear jerking moment when Steven came for Andrew at the refugee center. He was followed by Adam, who was equally as emotional as the other two. Ryan watched as they ran to each other, standing next to Shane.

 

He felt just the slightest twinge of jealousy knowing he had no one else waiting for him here, and that he was mostly on his own. He knows that Andrew and Steven will insist he stay with them until he can get back on his feet. All this time he’d spent praying and wishing for freedom and now that he was here, he didn’t know what to do with it.

 

Ryan was eventually pulled into the hugs and the waterworks as well. They were all back together and safe, they could do anything and be anything again. Ryan turned to see Shane walking away. He excused himself from the group and ran after him.

 

“Shane! Shane wait!” He stopped and turned to Ryan. “Shane I’m-”

 

Shane stopped him by putting a finger to his lips. “I know you’re going to say you’re sorry, but you have nothing to be sorry about. I caused you a lot of pain and hurt, I did very questionable things to you while you were in a position where you couldn’t refuse me.” He turned to leave again but Ryan reached out and grabbed his arm.

 

“Shane you can leave if you want but… I’m carrying your child. I don’t know what to do or where to go. I’m not going to lie, I will probably need a long time to heal and undo the damage that’s been done to me. But please don’t leave. You brought us all the way here.”

 

"I couldn't get Sara here." Ryan could see that Shane was beating himself up over her death. 

 

"You can't blame yourself over it. The Angels pulled the trigger, not you. She knew the dangers and stood by you anyway." Ryan looked at him as he was contemplating what he said. 

 

Shane took the hand that was on his wrist and held it gently. He kissed Ryan’s forehead and pulled him into his arms.

 

“I have some work to do. I’ll come back soon, I promise.”

 

Ryan watched him turn and leave the center, wondering if he really was going to keep his promise.

 

\---

 

It only took another year for the Republic of Gilead to collapse. The currency finally gave out, and the infrastructure crumbled not long after. The collapse was followed by a period of fighting and war, as the remaining United States forces tried to take back the original 50 states. The Sons of Jacob were pushed out and removed.

 

Even after the states were reclaimed and a new constitution was set in motion, Ryan did not return to the Americas.

 

He’d moved to England where he worked for a video company. He ended up starting his own series about what it was really like being in Gilead, and the things he experienced as a handmaid. It grew to become very successful, striking a chord with viewers across the world.

 

Ryan eventually gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, who was the very image of his father. Ryan loved him with all his heart, and though there were days where he was endlessly haunted by his time as a handmaid, the child was an endless source of light in his life.

 

Shane eventually returned as he promised, after helping dismantle the Gileadian government. He went back to producing after a long adjustment period and some very much needed therapy with Ryan, helping to produce Ryan’s series about his life as a handmaid.

 

Shane and Ryan lived together, having bad days and good days as a pair. When Ryan looked upon Shane playing with their child, his heart sang. He knew the worst part of his life was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I'm finally done with this... please let me know what you thought if it. I'm going to start a new multichapter fic soon but first i'm gonna do some drawings.
> 
> kudos nourish my soul and comments make my crops grow

**Author's Note:**

> I edited this motherfucker to death it is now 3 am and I am POSITIVE.... that i got every grammatical error. 
> 
> Anyways... Hi! I'm very new to this fandom. My good friend Faequill got me going on it and now I am absolutely obsessed and spend every waking moment thinking about The Boys(TM) 
> 
> I really hope you like this fic because I really liked writing it. Part 2 will be out tomorrow and you will finally find out what happened to Andrew and Steven 
> 
> Comments nourish my withering soul and Kudos make my crops grow.


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